When All is Lost

Chapter 31

The shove had the man nearly tripping over his feet as the forward momentum drove him deeper into the room. The movement itself seemed to set something off in Misty and, in a move I wouldn't have expected, she lunged.

Almost as if she was fencing, she held her fire poker in a stance like a sword. When the man moved closer to her, she thrust her arm forward and pierced him right in the belly with the tip of the poker. Both of their eyes widened in surprise.

It was as if the room was on pause. Our four stared at their four and they looked at us in return. We had clearly caught them by surprise just as I had hoped, but the moment of truth was now upon us. The moment when we all had to make the choice of what would come next – and how far things would go.

A part of me still held hope that they'd back off.

They didn't.

The man clutching his head was bent over and took the opportunity to snatch up his hammer. Ray did not give him the chance to do anything with it. Raising his arms high, he swung the crowbar down as hard as he could on the back of the man's head.

The man dropped to the ground, splayed out for all of us to see. It was unclear if he was dead, but from the amount of blood that began to flow out of the dent in his head, it was clear that he wouldn't last long.

All hell broke loose after that. Ian pushed me aside so he could raise the rifle. I tried to get out of his way but ended up face-to-face with the man who'd been stabbed in the gut. He wore horn-rimmed glasses with one of the lenses cracked, but I could still see the pain in his eyes as he grasped at my jacket.

Misty raised her fire poker and brought it down on his head. He flinched but nothing more. Unlike Ray, there had been little power behind her swing. From beyond the man's shoulder, I could see she was raising it again.

Not wanting to get accidentally hit, I yanked myself away from the man as hard as I could. I overestimated how tight his grip was and fell back, landing hard on the floor.

Feet darted past my face and I watched in astonishment as Prisha almost threw herself into the fray. She whacked the man in the back with her wrench just as he'd turned to face Misty.

At the far side of the room, there was a loud grunt. I looked over to see that Ray was being pinned to the wall by the other two men. They were using his own crowbar against him. They were positioned on either side of him, holding the ends of the crowbar and pressing it into his neck.

He was fighting them, trying to push the bar away from his neck, but he was losing. Fast. His face was turning an alarming shade of red.

No.

Desperate to get to him in time, I yanked my ice pick out of my sleeve and crawled across the floor, uncaring if my hands and knees were sliding in snow or blood.

I tried to stand up but was forced to stay down as Prisha came close to stepping on me while she was focused on helping Misty. I didn't waste time on another attempt and chose to continue to crawl. I returned my eyes to Ray and I could see what almost looked like foamy spittle building up on his lower lip as he choked.

A loud bang exploded through the room with a flash of light. A warm spray hit my face right as I passed the man Ray had taken out on the floor. Blinking the liquid out of my eyes, I saw that one of the men who'd been holding the crowbar had let go. He dropped to his knees in front of me, grasping his side.

The other man backed off, letting Ray retake control of his crowbar as he coughed and sputtered. Over my shoulder, I knew Ian stood ready to use the gun again. He wouldn't need to.

I crawled forward again, feeling a drop of blood roll down my cheek. My whole focus was on the shot man. Still on his knees, his navy bomber jacket was becoming saturated with blood as he clutched his side. Despite his best efforts, the red stain grew.

Not giving him the chance to recover, I struck. In the vulnerable junction between the neck and shoulder, I stabbed my ice pick as deep as it would go.

The man emitted something between a wail and a gargle as blood spurted up from the wound. I could hardly breathe as he fell forward. For a few more seconds, his hand helplessly patted around his neck until he went still.

I felt like lightning went off in my brain, fracturing me into a million pieces as I stared at what I'd done. I felt sick. I felt nothing. I felt everything all at once.

The sound of metal against flesh filled my ears as my friends fought on. To my side, Misty and Prisha beat the man with the glasses till he was on the ground. He had his hands over his head, but they didn't stop. They didn't stop until he stopped moving.

My skin felt hot and cold all at once. I wanted to be sick, especially as I used my sleeve to wipe the blood from my face. It was useless, however – my hands were wet with blood too.

With what felt like an insurmountable amount of effort, I got to my knees, then my feet. My legs wobbled, but I held fast. I needed to stay strong. I needed to hold on a little longer.

One more. Just one more.

Following the aim of Ian's rifle, I found the last man. His thin, wiry frame shook like a leaf as he held his weapon-free hands high above his head.

He was talking, but I had a hard time hearing any of it. My mind was doing its best to separate itself from what was happening. As much as I wanted to escape into it, I needed to think.

"... didn't want to do this. They made me! I swear. Please! I swear I had nothing to do with this." The man's voice was deep but it kept cracking as he pleaded.

His eyes were so wide open that I could see the white above his dark irises. His unshaven chin quivered as I moved closer to him. His gaze fell to the ice pick in my hand.

"Please. Please. Please."

"You would have killed us." The words came from my mouth, but the voice didn't feel like it was mine. It was harsh. Cold. Angry. I was scared and far too sick inside to feel any of those things.

"What was your plan?" I asked.

"We just wanted some food. I swear. I swear to God. Please. Please, I didn't want to do it. I'll do anything you ask. Please!"

His terror was more than I could take. "Are there any more of you?"

"No. No. I only joined them a few days ago. I had no idea what they were like. Please, you have to believe me. Please, I mean no harm!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a tremor run through me. I didn't know if I could trust him or believe him. They had rushed us just as I'd predicted. He could have run away. He chose to come in.

I can't.

For all I knew, he was wasting time, waiting for more people to come and help him.

I can't.

"Tie him up," I ordered the others. "Keep an eye on him."

With a stiff spine and sure legs, I strode out of the room as though I had a purpose. I walked straight to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I retched into the toilet until there was nothing left.